Dragon Age - Far From Home
by The Dark Warden
Summary: Freya Hawke has been called many things: Mercenary, Smuggler, Mage, Demon, Champion, Massive pain in the ass, to name a few. Dragon Rider...not once. However, after the Battle of the Gallows, a surge of magic flings her to a land filled with war and Tyranny. And now she has a Baby Dragon to take care of...the Maker really does not like Hawke
1. Chapter 1

Freya Hawke was leaning on the Staff of Parthalan, the blade of the weapon stabbed through the stone of the Gallows Courtyard as she heaved for breath, her piercing, electric blue eyes locked on the Red Lyrium statue that had once been Knight Commander Meredith of the Templar Order. She shook her head, shaggy black hair falling around her head as she did.

So much death, so much pain, all brought on by something that should have been destroyed long ago. That damned idol had cause so much damage to Kirkwall, and it was all her fault. If she had never agreed to the expedition, if she had just worked her ass off day in and day out to earn the money they needed to buy the Amell mansion back, they wouldn't be here.

She could vaguely hear her friends moving back and forth around her as they helped up the Templars who had fought beside them, but she didn't acknowledge any of them as she closed her eyes to take several deep breaths. A hand landed on her shoulder.

"Hawke, I can't tell you how—"

Electric eyes snapped open, glowing with harsh light as she spun around and launched her metal-clad, lightning imbued fist into Anders's face, the energy blasting the mage off his feet as thunder cracked the sky. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at the Champion of Kirkwall as lightning cackled in her hands, her blue eyes filled with sapphire flame as her face twisted into a rage-filled snarl.

"Don't touch me." She hissed toward the downed man, who was staring at her in fear. "This is all _**your**_ fault! If you had just been patient, if you had actually thought your plan through, all these people would still be alive!" she roared at Anders. She flung her arm toward the former Knight Commander. "You knew she was getting more and more paranoid by the day and yet you still blew up the Chantry. I may have found that damned idol in the first place, but all these deaths are on your head!"

Everyone in the courtyard stared at the Champion. Very few had ever seen her as emotional as she currently was. She was always so calm, so level headed. To see a woman like that so furious was like seeing a High Dragon who had just watched her young be butchered. Anders was shaking in terror as he beheld his friend, a woman who had stood by him even when he was a massive idiot. This was not her anymore.

"I will not kill you, Anders," Freya started, the flames in her eyes dimming until only the irises glowed with power. At the look of relief on the blonde's face, she snarled. "But I will no longer protect you. Mages like you are the reason we've been locked up in cages for Centuries."

Her words struck Anders like an Ogre. She knew she didn't need to hurt him to get her point across. She only needed to speak the truth.

"Freya…" came the whisper from Isabela. Freya couldn't look at her Pirate lover. Couldn't bear to look in those beautiful amber eyes that she knew would be filled with fear at the fact she had struck a member of her family. Everyone in her rag-tag group knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would never truly strike them. Training was one thing. A slug to the shoulder or smack to the back of the head when they were being silly or stupid was one thing. A slap to Isabela's rear when Freya was feeling frisky was something the Rivaini enjoyed thoroughly. Bethany occasionally received a slightly rough pat on the back when she impressed her sister. But a punch like that only meant one thing: that Anders was no longer part of the family.

Whatever else might have been said was cut off as the ground trembled. All eyes snapped from the enraged Champion and fallen Mage to the cracks of red light emanating from the former Knight Commander, spreading through the ground and arcing through the air…heading right toward Isabela.

Freya didn't hesitate. In an instant, she stood before her Pirate with her magic brought to bear. The cracks collided with the electric blue barrier, causing Freya to cry out as she felt her blood ignite in agony. The crimson energy recoiled as it collided with the barrier, hesitating for a moment before it attempted to circumvent the magic, lashing out to strike the shield again and again as it went. Freya pushed through it as she strengthened and widened the barrier, stretching it to encompass all who stood in the path of the red energy. With teeth clenched, Freya fought to push the energy back, feeling the malice that filled it as she did.

_This is the Commander's revenge,_ she thought as she felt blood start to drip down from her nose. _Even in death, she refuses to give in to Mages._

She looked over her shoulder to her friends. Her family. She felt the flames spring up once more, filling her eyes with sapphire light as she roared in fury and pain.

"STAY. AWAY. FROM. MY. FAMILY!" She roared as she poured on the magic, allowing the power to flood through her body as she kept pushing the malicious magic away.

It was almost done. She looked over her shoulder and cracked a wide, pain-filled grin at her Lover. Isabela could only shake her head as her amber eyes locked onto electric blue.

And then she was gone.

Freya blinked as she felt the magic fade. She felt wind roaring past her face. She smelled fire and blood. She heard the clashing of steel and the cries of warriors. But she saw nothing. No courtyard. No Red Lyrium statue of a madwoman. No scantily clad Rivaini Pirate. Nothing but dark stone.

That was when she noticed that she felt nothing beneath her feet and that the wind was blowing…_up?_

Freya looked down. And promptly screamed.

She was nearly a mile in the air, falling at top speed as she began to flail. Far below her, a great battle raged within the confines of a hollowed-out mountain. From her position, she could tell that the defenders of the White City were vastly outnumbered. However, she stopped worrying about that as she continued to fall to her death. Thankfully, she still had her staff, so she should be able to—

_**SQUEAK!**_

Her head snapped to her left. There, not ten feet from her in all its reptilian glory, was a baby dragon. It was a brilliant crimson-gold color, the color of fire if she was being specific. It was about half the size of her Mabari, Argos. It's red-gold scales overlapped like masterfully forged armor, a pair of horns about as long as Freya's hand and slightly curved sticking out from the back of the hatchling's head. A line of small spike ran down it's back to just before the end of its tail, which was tipped with serrated bone, making it like a razor whip. The creature continued to squeak in terror as the two of them fell, it's maw open for Freya to see the small, but razor-sharp teeth within. And yet, her gaze was drawn to the brilliant blue eyes that were widened in terror as the lizard flipped and flailed through the air.

Freya didn't stop to think, though honestly she really should have. She stilled her flailing and carefully angled her body to her left, allowing the wind to push her toward the reptile. The brilliant blue eyes locked onto her electric blue, and the youngling seemed to understand what she was trying to do. It spread its legs wide, its wings open just enough to catch the air to slow its fall.

Freya reached out with her left hand, her chainmail sleeve fluttering madly in the wind.

_Almost…there…_

Her hand latched onto the dragon's shoulder, just above the wing and just below the neck. Bad move.

Lightning and ice seemed to ignite in her blood, lashing and stabbing her muscles. She vaguely heard herself scream, barely felt her magic surging and twisting as she instinctively curled into a ball, pulling the dragon tight against her leather-bound chest as they fell.

_**Eragon, Son of None**_

The battle was going badly. Despite their actions before the battle had begun and how he and Saphira were performing excellently executed stealth attacks, the Varden and the Dwarves were being forced back toward Tronjheim. He cursed under his breath as a stray arrow flew right past his head, arcing over Saphira's massive body to bounce off the end of her tail and fall to the ground below.

Someone screamed.

Eragon frowned as he looked back and forth. The scream had sounded female, but this high up, everyone should have been drowned out by the clashing of the armies. Saphira turned her head back and forth as well, searching for the source of the scream as Eragon looked below them for anyone high enough to be heard of the battle.

_There!_ Saphira cried.

Eragon's head snapped to the back of the blue dragon's head before following her gaze…upwards?

Then he saw it. A person falling from up high, curled into a ball as the tail of their coat flapped madly.

He threw his arm out, the gedwëy ignasia on the palm of his head lighting up like a beacon as he called to his magic. _"__**Reisa**__!"_

The person slowed dramatically and Eragon immediately groaned at the drain of power. Saphira, ever the observant partner, quickly winged her way up and under the person, slowing just enough to Eragon to release the magic and allow them to fall into his lap. He let out a breath as the weight fell on him, an odd-looking spear landing on his leg.

The person was a woman, maybe a few winters older than he. Her skin was pale, her short, messy hair darker than midnight. She had a streak of blood-red warpaint over the bridge of her nose. She had a cute button nose and full red lips. She was very beautiful. And very strong from the feel of her. Even through her leather armor, he could feel her lean, powerful muscle that twitched and jolted every now and again. Her armor was a mix of dark leather and dark steel, the metal forged into spikey plates that covered the upper part of her chest with a piece to protect her throat and her entire right arm clad in the armor, her fingers tipped with vicious looking talons. Her boots were of the same design, overlapping razor plating that covered up to her knees with what looked like small downward hooks on her heels. Her collar was lined with thick black fur, a black hood falling down her back. She seemed to have red markings on her left arm, just above her elbow. A small line of blood was leaking from her right nostril. She was curled up, arms and knees pulled almost to her chest, her face twisted in pain.

_**Squeak?**_

Eragon froze. He knew that sound.

_Saphira,_ he said numbly.

_Yes, Little One?_

_Find somewhere for us to land…_

Thankfully, she didn't argue or question and immediately banked right towards the Dragon Hold. Eragon could see something red wiggling in the woman's arms, though it didn't seem to be trying to escape, more like it was trying to burrow deeper into the woman's chest.

Eragon tightened his hold on the woman as Saphira dove into the Dragon Hold and came to a halt, her massive frame shuddering as she landed.

With a bit of maneuvering and shifting, Eragon finally managed to get the woman off Saphira's back, with the blue dragon's help of course. However, he wasn't the strongest person around and as such caused the woman to fall flat on her face when he tried to lower her down. He winced at the loud clang before he knelt and carefully turned her over.

What he got for his trouble was a small, red-gold dragon uncurling itself to snap at his face, brilliant blue eyes narrowed in suspicion as it remained crouched on the woman's chest, eyes flicking between him and Saphira as it let loose a stream of smoke from its nostrils.

Luckily, Eragon managed to leap back before the baby dragon took his nose off, and could only stare in wonder at the fact that there was a baby dragon at all. It was the about the same size as Solembum was in his cat form. He would have laugh aloud in joy had there not been a battle going on.

Speaking of which, he suddenly realized something. The Twins were nowhere to be found, despite the fact that they were ordered to remain in the Dragon Hold. He shook his head. He'd have time to hunt them down and get onto their case later, for now…

He reached out with his mind, seeking that familiar song that was Arya's mind. It didn't take him long, and thankfully she was not in the middle of fighting when he contacted her.

_Arya, we need you in the Dragon Hold._ He said swiftly as the pale woman groan, drawing the attention of the baby dragon, who cooed softly as it lowered its head to brush the woman's cheek.

_Why?_ Arya questioned. _You are meant to be on the battlefield. What are you doing up there?_

_We found another Dragon and Rider._ He said swiftly, cutting her off before she could berate him some more. It worked. Her mind seemed to screech to a halt and go completely in reverse.

_I shall be there shortly._

_I'll send Saphira to pick you up._ He looked to his partner, who tore her eyes from the baby dragon who was pointedly ignoring her to look at Eragon. He quickly told her what to do, at which she nodded without question, throwing one last longing look at the red-gold dragon before taking off.

"Ugh…"

Eragon spun around to see the woman shifting ever so slightly, her metal clad hand coming up to cover her eyes.

"Maker, what the Hell hit me?" she groaned as she sat up, hand sliding down her face to reveal glowing blue eyes the color of lightning.

Eragon hurried to her side. "Easy," he said as he put a hand on her unarmored shoulder. "I don't know what hit you, but your dragon seems to be concerned about you."

The woman regarded him with a confused expression, brow furrowed as she stared at him. "I must've hit my head rather hard. For a second there, I could have sworn you said…my dragon"

The teenager blinked in confusion at the woman, who obviously hadn't seen the infant dragon just a few feet to her left, the small reptile staring at the woman with big blue eyes.

"I did say that." He raised his hand and pointed to the dragon. The woman followed his hand and froze as her eyes landed on the red-gold dragon. Her reaction was not what he expected.

"Andraste's knickers!" she cried as she scrambled back, the odd spear jumping to her hand as though by magic as she put a great deal of distance between her and the hatchling, who ducked its head and whimpered.

Almost immediately, the spear dropped from her hands as she pressed both against either side of her head and she gritted her teeth. "Who's in my head!?" she half-snarled, half whimpered as bolts of bright blue lightning began to jump across the metal of her armor.

Eragon rushed to her side, using his foot to kick the spear several meters away as he did. "Just breathe. It's normal to be a bit…disoriented after the Bonding."

The woman's electric blue eyes locked onto his own, filled with a pain he could scarcely fathom. "Bonding…? What the hell did you do to me?"

Eragon blinked as the woman's eyes seemed to fill with fury. "No no no no! I didn't do anything, I'm far too inexperienced in Magic to cast a spell like that. Its an ancient pact that the Elves made with the Dragons. When a dragon hatchling chooses its Rider, they are bonded, mind and soul. I don't know much more than that and as far as I know there is no way to undo it."

The fury faded as the woman's right brow seemed to twitch in annoyance as she shook her head. "That's my luck for you," she grumbled as she gingerly pushed herself back to her feet. Only to fall right back on her ass as Saphira's massive form entered the Dragon Hold, the spear jumping back to her hand as she aimed it at the blue reptile.

"Maker's Hairy Balls, I knew it!" she cried, causing Eragon to snort in amusement at her creative and unusual curse. "I knew it, I bloody knew it! There's always a bigger Dragon!"

Eragon shook his head in amusement at the woman before he turned to his Partner, who was lowering herself just enough for Arya to jump off her back and land nimbly beside the massive reptile's left fore leg. The teen nodded to the Elf, whom inclined her head in acknowledgement before she moved toward the woman.

The woman quickly raised her spear, the blade exploding into brilliant flames as the woman braced herself, Arya coming to a stop in an instant.

"Now listen here, miss," the woman growled. "I don't know who you are or what the twig over there is talking about. I don't _ride_ dragons; I make sure they don't hurt innocent people. So, you can take the baby lizard there," the woman motioned with her head to the hatchling, who lowered its head with a whimper, "and send it right back to its mother before she comes looking for me. Maker knows I have enough to deal with without having to deal with raising a baby dragon."

Arya gaped at the armored woman in shock, Eragon and Saphira mimicking her. The former-farm boy could not believe his ears. He didn't know of anyone, anywhere who wouldn't wish to be a Dragon Rider and fight against the Black King. It was unthinkable that anyone wouldn't wish to stand up against a Tyrant.

The teen was shaken from his thoughts as Saphira growled and stomped forward, the red dragon quickly moving behind its Rider as the pale-skinned woman barely spared the hatchling a glance before the flaming spear was aimed at the Blue Dragon.

_You have been given a gift many would and have killed for and you would throw it away!?_ The dragon growled, the woman's eyes widening in shock before narrowing in determination. _That hatchling does not HAVE a mother, for Galbatorix murdered her. She has chosen you to be her companion, and you would reject her? Tell me why, human!_

The woman's eyes narrowed further, but whatever might have been said was cut off by an explosion that had the woman's head snapping to the opening of the Dragon Hold. Without sparing any of those present a second glance, she ran to the edge of the Hold, her spear held at the ready as she beheld the battle below, the tattered tail of her armor fluttering in the breeze.

Arya spoke from behind him, drawing his, Saphira's and the hatchling's eyes. "Galbatorix is a man without mercy, who kills what he cannot control. The Varden is the only hope we have in destroying him and bringing Alagaësia back from the brink. You may not have asked for this burden, but it is yours. But you do not have to do it alone."

The woman shook her head with a sigh. "Bloody hell…" she grumbled as she spun her spear in her hand. "Fine, I'll help win this fight at the very least. But once this battle is over, you help me figure out how to get back home. I have family back there who need me." The woman turned her head and gave them a mischievous grin as lightning cackled in her free hand and flame ran along her spear. "Time to bring the pain." She said.

And then she jumped.

The hatchling squawked in horror and ran to the edge of the Dragon Hold, Arya, Eragon and Saphira right behind it. What they saw was the pale woman falling with an aura of lightning forming around her body as she fell, laughing and whooping as she did. Every combatant on the ground below stopped and stared at the falling lightning bolt, right up until she made landfall, slamming her spear into the ground with a shout. The lightning wreathing her body exploded outwards to strike every Urgal in sight, while attaching to the weapons of the Varden soldiers, wreathing the blades in brilliant blue lightning that had the men and dwarves cheering at the sight of the sorcerer in their midst, her spear blazing with golden flames as she charged toward the rest of the Urgal army with a fierce battle cry.

Eragon looked to Arya, his mouth open in shock at the level of power the woman possessed. Arya looked just as shocked, her normally neutral face gaping at the level of destruction that one person had caused with a single movement. With a jolt, they both headed for Saphira, the Blue Dragon already lowering herself to her stomach even as she very carefully picked up the Hatchling with her lips and swung her head around to put it in their cave.

_Stay here, little one._ She said to the Hatchling, who squeaked and crawled toward the back. With a snort and a puff of smoke, she turned and quickly followed the crazy woman with the lightning eyes out of the hold.

"I seriously hope that woman is actually our ally," he grumbled as Saphira winged her way toward the ring of flame that the woman had created to funnel the Urgals toward her. Arya nodded in agreement as they watched the woman fling fire balls left and right even as she spun her spear to shove right through and Kull's mouth. "Because I don't believe we could stop her if she decided to attack..."

* * *

_**I LIIIIIIIIIVE!**_

_**Okay, so first things first. **_

_**I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG! To explain, I have been working a crap ton on top of having a massive writer's block on most of my stories. It also doesn't help that i have Asperger's as well, since that makes it so much harder for me to focus. I'm not saying thtat for pity, I'm pointing it out so you understand what is taking me so long to update my stories. Because make no mistake, I AM NOT GIVING UP ON ANY OF THEM. My stupid brain is simply taking forever to reboot.**_

_**Now that that is out of the way, on to explanations.**_

_**Hawke has often been described as one of the most powerful Mages ever to walk the face of Thedas, without using Blood Magic. I wanted to show that in this story. Why make her a Rider? Because most magic users become even stronger when bonded to a Dragon and i thought, 'Hey, how do i make Hawke so absurdly powerful that even Durza would scream like a little bitch and run for the hills? I know! Give her a Dragon! This'll be AWESOME!"**_

_**I know, my brain is stupid. ANY WHO! As for mentioning Bethany rather than Carver for Mage Hawke...Carver is a bitchy little shit who can't just be happy for what he has and is obsessed with the idea that he is stuck in his sister's shadow. I hate him, have always and will always HATE him. Especially since he goes and signs up with the freaking Templars if you don't make him a Warden. Y'know, the people who would make Mage Hawke Tranquil for speaking her mind and setting fools on fire when they tried to torment her. The only thing i ever liked about him was when Isabela was teasing him about being at the Blooming Rose and the short bonding moment he and Hawke had during the Legacy DLC after they got back from Corypheus's prison.**_

_**Bethany on the other hand is someone that Hawke could always rely one when she needed to talk about serious things. She acted like a sibling should when her big sister was having a rough time with one thing or another. Honestly, i wish Bioware had pulled a Telltale Games moment and given you the choice on whether to save Bethany or Carver at the beginning. **_

_**Now then, My Hawke is a Force mage and Spirit Healer. She focused more on Elemental and Primal magics with a bit of Creation, Arcane, and Spirit mixed in. Her Personality is rather hectic since i tried to use the reactions i would have had i been in her place. So she is usually diplomatic, but can also be a mischievous, conniving little shit, or a complete asshole who prefers violence over humor or diplomacy. **_

_**As you probably read, Isabela is her Lover. The only reason she didn't kill Anders after he blew up the Chantry is because he is the strongest healer she knew and she was more than aware that there would be more bloodshed to come. That and she doesn't hurt her family.**_

_**Aaaaand done. I will not take anymore of your time. I hope you enjoyed. Please review, be polite if you didn't like it. And i will see you all the next time I update.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2: Battle**_

Freya was having the time of her life as she danced between the twisted Qunari. Not the killing part, the blood and guts she could have done without. But finally being able to cut loose, even a little bit, was like a pressure being pulled off her chest. Her father had always told her to hold back, to keep her true strength hidden in order to avoid the Templars. After his death, her mother told her to do the same. Carver had always been resentful of her magic, and showing him how strong she really was would have just made him hate her more.

That lesson had gotten Carver killed. She could have saved Carver, Bethany AND Mother, but she had been so focused on saving Bethany and Mother AND on holding back her power that Carver had been crushed by the Ogre. After they had arrived in Kirkwall; Templar Central of all Thedas; she had tried to teach herself on how to use her full magical might without drawing attention. It hadn't ended well; she had blow up a fair bit of the Wounded Coast, along with a bunch of Tal-Vashoth and a few raiders along with it. She wasn't very good at fine control at full power with her combat magic. Had she not run, she would've been dragged to the Circle, and possibly made Tranquil.

Freya shuddered as she unleashed a lightning bolt into a group of five Qunari who tried to overwhelm her with their bodies, instead getting blown to bits for their troubles.

Tranquility. The very thought of that horrendous act made her blood run cold. And people wondered why the Champion of Kirkwall hated the Chantry. That supposed 'Holy' men and women would condone an act like that was horrible.

She shook her head to clear it of those distracting thoughts. Thoughts such as those always led back to the humorous insults she shared with her Pirate Queen, which would only distract her in the current situation. During the Qunari attack, the ox-men had attack in groups of ten to twenty. Here, they were everywhere, throwing themselves into her blade, her flames, ice shards and lightning bolts with no regard to their own lives. She was skilled enough to keep them from getting too close, but with how they would jump through the ring of fire in groups of thirty and up, it didn't matter how skilled she was, if she wasn't careful, they'd kill her dead.

Freya growled as she swung her staff, the flaming blade slicing the head off one of the Qunari as he charged before she reached out a hand and clenched it into a fist, crushing a group of ten Ox-Men into a ball of flesh and bone with a sickening CRUNCH! under the unrelenting force of Gravity magic.

She pushed down the bile in the back of her throat as she turned to another group of Qunari, though her scowl turned to a look of surprise as a group of twenty dwarves burst through the ring of flames she had created, led by an absolutely ancient dwarf with a long white beard clad in shimmering golden armor, the man wielding a massive stone hammer that he swung with incredible ease, each strike shattering bone and ending lives as he and his men made their way over to the Mage.

She blinked as the Dwarves made a ring around herself and their leader, the old dwarf moving toward her with purpose, his blood-stained hammer held firmly in his grasp as he came to a stop a few feet away, his deep set, flinty eyes locking onto her electric blue eyes.

"What is your business here, sorcerer?" he growled, his voice like a pair of boulders grinding against each other.

The Mage shrugged as she formed a fireball in her free left hand and tossed it over her shoulder, the cries of agony from the Qunari reaching her as the ball of fire detonated. "Don't have business. Was in one fight, Magic happened, ended up here and decided to help. I'm Freya, by the way. Freya Hawke."

The dwarf blinked at her nonchalant answer, his bushy white eyebrows furrowing at her as she gave him a small smile.

"Sooo…are we going to stand here and talk or are we going to get back to the fight?" she inquired with a grin as she spun the Staff of Parthalan in her hand, a small tail of flame trailing along the blade's path.

The dwarf watched her for a moment before his bearded face twisted into a grin and he threw his head back, laughing heartily as he did. The laugh only lasted a moment or two, and when he was finished, he looked to her with a wide grin. "Indeed, we shall, Lady Hawke."

Without another word, he spun around and smashed the torso of a Qunari who had gotten through the dwarf line, Freya unleashing a jet of flame from her hand as she blasted the other Qunari running at them, turning him to ash.

The Dwarf King; for he could only be a king with the armor he wore, the hammer he wielded, and the way he held himself; and the Champion of Kirkwall continued the bloody dance of war, the dwarven warriors creating a vanguard behind them to cover their rears as they charged through the Qunari ranks, smashing, slicing, hacking and electrocuting anyone foolish enough to stand in their way. Unlike most mages she had met, Freya preferred to be on the frontlines, smacking fools with her staff along with using her magic to blast them to bits. Unfortunately, that almost got her crushed when the Blue Dragon landed almost right on top of her, the twig from before sitting on her back with a beautiful, wine-red blade in hand.

"Andraste's tits, boy!" she snapped as she pushed herself off the ground from where she had fallen. The teen ducked his head sheepishly as the Mage glared at him, intent on burning a hole through his head with her eyes alone. "Watch where you're landing before you crush someone important!"

"Sorry," he called down to her as she skewered another Qunari on her staff blade. "The Twins told me that King Hrothgar needed aid in battle."

Freya blinked as she turned to look at the Dwarf King, who had just thrown a spear he had pulled out of his own man clear through its owner twenty yards away. She turned back to the boy on the dragon. "You sure about that? He looks like he can handle himself."

The boy shrugged and slid off the dragon, hefting a shield emblazoned with an oak tree. "I'm just doing what I'm told." He said as he stopped before her.

Freya snorted. "Something tells me you need to cut that out. For right now, lets just kill these Qunari bastards."

The boy furrowed his brow. "What's a Qunari?"

Freya blinked at him; brow furrowed as she stared. "These things we're killing right now. They're Qunari, aren't they?"

He shook his head as the dragon slapped a combatant aside, the bastard's guts flying from his eviscerated stomach. "These are Urgals, savage brutes who have terrorized Alagaësia for centuries."

Freya blinked. "Huh, you learn something new every day…" she shook her head. "By the way, I'm Freya. Freya Hawke." She extended her left hand.

The boy blinked before responding. "Eragon, Son of None. This is Saphira." He jerked a thumb toward the Blue Dragon, who glared at her from the corner of her eye. He grasped her hand and shook it.

"Son of None?" she inquired as she used Fist of the Maker to smash a group of seven 'Urgals' into the ground with a wave of her armored hand, crushing their bones into dust. "Does that mean you don't know who your parents are?"

It was obviously the wrong thing to say as the teen's face turned bright red and his grip tightened on her hand slightly. After a moment, he released her and jumped into the fray. The Champion of Kirkwall rubbed her neck sheepishly as 'Saphira' pinned her with a sapphire glare.

"Hehe…oops…" she chuckled sheepishly as the Dragon huffed in annoyance before following her 'Rider' into the battle. Freya let out a breath before she leapt back into the fight, her staff immediately taking the head off an 'Urgal' before she blasted another with a ball of fire.

For whatever reason, it turned out that she and Eragon had good battle chemistry, the two fighters moving in near perfect sync, the teen hacking Urgals apart with his sword while Freya would twirl around his back to blast any Urgals stupid enough to attack from behind. Saphira was a terrifying force of nature as she used her tail and claws to knock the Urgals aside, sending the grotesque creatures flying, most eviscerated by her talons or the metal blades on her tail armor. The dragon's maw would clamp down on one oversized Urgal, only for her paws to slam down on others, smoke trailing from her nostrils as she growled in an aggressive manner.

Throughout the fight, Freya noticed something pressed against the back of her mind. The hatchling. To say that having a baby dragon in her head was disconcerting would have been an understatement. She had killed so many dragons in her time, she honestly could not count them right off the top of her head. She kept a mental barrier up, keeping the fire-breathing lizard out of her thoughts and memories, as she only trusted Merrill, Bethany, and Isabela in there. Even as she fought, she couldn't block out the reptile entirely, the hatchling's concern and fear hitting her in waves every time an Urgal's attack got a little too close for comfort.

Her breath was knocked from her lungs as an Urgal managed to sneak up behind her and smashed his fist into her abdomen, knocking her clear off her feet as she flew back about ten feet and hit the ground hard, her ears ringing as she tried to suck in a lung full of oxygen.

Through bleary eyes, she watched as the Urgal gave a hideous grin and stalked toward her downed form, his piece of crap short sword raised to finish her off. In the back of her mind, she felt the dragon hatchling squeak in terror, the little lizard apparently having felt the blow.

Her Pirate Queen flashed passed her eyes, her beautiful lips set into a rare, soft smile as those amber-gold colored eyes softened in a way they did only when the two were alone, the Pirate letting her walls fall as she relaxed with her lover.

Hawke growled as she finally sucked in a breath, rolling to the left as the crude blade came down on where she had been a moment before, the weapon buried in the dirt as Freya jumped to her feet. With a roar of fury, the Mage charged, leaping towards the Urgal and drawing her daggers from their hidden scabbards. The horned giant blanched in surprised as her legs wrapped around his neck and she swung around, throwing him off balance as the long blades were forced through his temples. The monster shuddered as the cold steel was forced into his brain.

"I am NOT dying today, you bastards," Freya hissed as the Urgal toppled forward, throwing her into a roll that allowed her to gut two other Urgals as she came out of it, the stench of their internal organs causing her stomach to turn as she returned the blades to their scabbards under the tattered bits of cloth at the base of her spine and reached out with her magic, the Staff of Parthalan jumping to her hand from where it had fallen.

She ground her teeth together as she looked around, at the men and women fighting and dying at against a seemingly unending foe. She shook her head as lightning cackled in her armored hand.

She leapt back into the fray.

* * *

Hour after hour of bloody combat, the battle dragged on. Freya had long since been separated from Hrothgar and Eragon, instead acting as magical support for a man with ebony skin, her massive magical reserves nearly depleted. Her Lyrium potions had been depleted at the end of the fight with Knight Commander Meredith, along with her healing potions. She was sore and tired, bleeding from numerous cuts across her body. Nothing serious thankfully, but enough to slow her down. At one point during the fighting, she had ended up alongside the elven woman with raven hair, the woman's emerald eyes intense as she slashed through Urgals with a speed she had never seen before, her razor thin sword cutting four Urgals to ribbons in the time it took for Hawke to blink. It was like the woman was always under a supercharged Haste spell if Freya was being honest. The woman had come and gone, barely sparing the Mage a glance as she bolted through the crowd like a jungle cat.

Soon after, she had fought alongside a woman dressed in outlandish flanged armor enameled black and green, a dual-bladed staff in hand as they ended up back to back, hacking and slashing with their staves against whichever Urgal decided to get too close. A shaggy-haired boy with sharp teeth and a small black dagger had hung close to the curly haired woman, hamstringing every Urgal he could. The two women had fought together for about twenty minutes before they had been separated by a rather large Urgal with horns that reminded her of the Arishok's.

Now she stood with a dark-skinned man in fine armor, the broad-shouldered man wielding a curved blade that flashed in the fire light as he spun back and forth, his blade singing through the air as he cut a swath through the Urgals, the men of the army rallying around him.

Freya couldn't help but smile softly as she watched the dark-skinned man command his men with the precision of a seasoned veteran, the men roaring in approval as they began to push the Horde of Urgals back inch by bloody inch.

It took time, but finally the Urgals were slowly being pushed back into a tunnel, the massive brutes tripping over one another as the army jabbed at them with pikes and archers peppered them with arrows. Freya watched closely, waiting for the right moment. Then she saw it.

"GET CLEAR!" she shouted as she stabbed her Staff into the ground and brought her hands together, the men of the Varden scrambling out of the way. In a moment, a ball of cackling, spitting red energy floated between her palms. With a feral grin, Freya shouted incoherently as she threw her hands forward, the ball of energy unleashing a pillar of power that burned a hole clear through the Urgal ranks before the Mage managed to pull up, the beam slashing through the stone above their heads.

The men cheered and raised their banners; a white dragon wrapped around a pale blade on a purple background, a red rose clutched in its paws; as the rocks above the Urgals heads shattered and crumbled, shards of rock and stone raining down upon their heads, crushing a fair few before the tunnel was closed off.

The last of her power spent, Freya collapsed to her knees, chest heaving as she gasped for breath. She couldn't stop the tired smile from stretching across her face as the warriors clapped her on the back. She could vaguely hear cheering from across the massive cavern. Evidently, the Urgal Horde had been routed, the men and dwarves roaring in victory as they slammed their weapons against their shields and stomped their feet on the ground as they cried out to the heavens.

A dark hand entered her view and Freya looked up with tired blue eyes to look at the dark-skinned man she had been fighting alongside, his arm outstretched to pull her to her feet.

With a groan of exertion, she grasped his left arm with her own, her muscles and bones crying out in protest as the man pulled her to her feet, Freya immediately grabbing onto her Staff for support.

"You have my thanks, Sorcerer," the man rumbled as the men around them calmed down a bit, their focus now on the two people in the center of the circle. "I don't doubt we'd have lost many more to the Empire without your aid."

Freya waved a hand tiredly as she took slow breaths. "Think nothing of it. I've never been good at staying out of other people's business. Besides, day isn't out yet. Give me a half hour of rest and some food, and I'll get to helping the wounded." She extended her arm. "Freya Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall and general nuisance to people who piss me off." She said with a tired grin.

An amused smirk appeared on the dark-skinned man's face and he grasped her arm in a warrior's hold. "I am Ajihad, Leader of the Varden. We welcome any aid you can give."

The men and dwarves surrounding them cheered at their words before they disperse, spreading out to find the wounded and to kill any surviving enemy combatants. "May I ask how you entered the mountain? I take it you aren't a servant of the Black King." Ajihad said as he pulled her arm over his shoulder to support her weight as he guided her back towards the White City.

Freya shook her head. "From what the elf lady told me up in those caves," she motioned to the opening she had jumped from earlier with her head, "This Black King is worst than Knight Commander Meredith. There's no way I would ever fight for someone like that. No, I had just gotten done stopping Meredith from murdering innocent people for the actions of one man when some form of magic dropped me out a mile above the city. The boy; Eragon; caught me. Mentioned something about a baby dragon bonding to me before the battle caught my attention."

The man nodded slowly; his face indecipherable as they continued in silence. It took them about ten minutes to get to the walls of the city, where a small village's worth of tents had been set up, healers running back and forth as they rushed to keep the wounded alive. Ajihad set her down on a stool, Freya hissing in pain as she settled, her muscles burning unpleasantly.

"IS this the first battle you've been in?" he asked as she leaned her head against the tent post in exhaustion.

Freya shook her head. "Fourth big battle. First one was six years ago back in Fereldan. Was fighting the Darkspawn for King Cailan with my brother Carver. Barely survived then. Second was with the Qunari attacked Kirkwall because the Arishok was an impatient, fanatical follower of his precious Qun," she spat at the memory of the ox-man. "Third was the one I was in before I ended up here, stopping Knight Commander Meredith from murdering every Mage in Kirkwall for the actions of one man. Was already exhausted after THAT mess. Getting dropped into another fight was not how I wanted my evening to go," Freya grumbled as a young woman with golden hair and green eyes dressed in a green dress rushed over, gingerly prodding Freya's battered and bruised body as she looked over the injuries.

Ajihad nodded slowly as he watched the woman with a critical eye. That analyzing gaze was shattered as a messenger sprinted toward them, face set in a fear ridden visage as the boy approached.

Freya crunched on the apple the young woman had handed her as she watched the sprinting young man skid to a halt, chest heaving as he sucked down air. What he said made her heart jump to her throat.

"My Lord, Rider Eragon has been gravely injured."

Freya ignored her aching body and leapt to her feet, Magic flowing once more through her body. "Where is he?"

The young man blinked in confusion before he pointed to the opening at the base of the crater's side, where directly above was the group of caves that she had woken up in. She shot forwards, pumping magic into her flesh and muscles, sighing in relief as her wounds healed swiftly, each step carrying her farther and faster, her blood singing with energy. Her boots clanged against the stone beneath her feet as she approached the group of people, Eragon's presence obvious by the blue dragon looming protectively nearby.

Freya; ever the sensative sort; shoved all the healers out of the way before she knelt to examine Eragon. The young man was face down; his upper armor removed so his wound could be examined. She hissed in sympathy at the thick gash that stretched from his right shoulder to his opposite hip that exposed bits of his ribs and spine to the air, the flesh around the wound blackened. Even without using a spell to determine the extent of the damage, Freya could feel the Dark Magic upon injury.

Her blue eyes snapped up to the elven woman, whose hand was wrapped around the slim blade at her hip. "What form of Abomination did this?" Freya growled, causing the green-eyed elf to blink in surprise.

"Durza, a vile and sadistic Shade. He slashed Eragon and cast some form of dark spell I've never seen before." The woman replied.

Freya nodded. "Makes sense. Abominations have a nasty habit of cursing whatever injury they create to cause as much pain as possible." She mulled a thought over in her head for a moment before she nodded. "Alright, I might be able to clear out the worst of the magic and seal the wound, but it'll take a lot of time and study to purge this curse completely. I'll need complete silence while I work, otherwise I could make things worse."

She didn't wait for a response from anyone before she crossed her legs and took a breath. After what felt like a moment, Freya felt the shift in the energy around her. When her eyes opened, she beheld the familiar sight of the Fade, the swirling green energy flowing through the air and ground around her.

"_Compassion!"_ she called in to the swirling void. _"I need your help. A young man is gravely hurt, and I have neither the strength nor the knowledge to help him on my own."_

Compassion was a spirit Freya had met when she had first begun training as a Spirit Healer; the kind soul helping her heal the most grievous of injuries. The spirit was familiar with Justice—or at least the Spirit he had been before he and Anders had merged.

After a moment—or was it an hour? Time was so strange in the Fade—Freya felt the familiar warmth of the Spirit wash over her as the being approached. Compassion took the form of a tall young woman with fair skin, wavy-golden hair and silver eyes wrapped in a golden robe that left her seemingly strong arms and legs bare.

"_It has been too long, young Hawke."_ The Spirit said with a soft smile. _"If someone is in need, you know all you have to do is ask."_

Freya sighed somberly. She hadn't used her Spirit Healer skills since her mother had died. The act of trying to commune with Compassion when she had been so angry and so full of grief had been too painful to deal with. And when Isabela had left for three years, Freya had admittedly become rather depressed, rarely leaving her manor to help the citizens of Kirkwall. Mostly, she left to get drunk down at the Hanged Man. It had taken Fenris knocking her over the head after Varric had spiked her drink for Aveline to toss the younger woman over her shoulder before carrying her back up to her manor in High Town before the Champion of Kirkwall had started cleaning herself up.

"_I know…"_ she whispered, ashamed of herself. A warm hand fell on her shoulder and her lightning blue eyes moved up to lock with the brilliant silver of Compassion's.

"_I am not blaming you for anything, Young One,"_ the Spirit said with a soft smile. _"I am simply stating a fact. Now, we have work to do, do we not?"_

Freya took a breath, calming her nerves before she gave a brilliant smile, one that caused Compassion to smile widely as well. _"Yes. Yes, we do."_

Freya's eyes snapped open, filled with brilliant white-blue light as the energy spread over her body, causing her form to be covered in cracks filled with light as her hands stretched out, a magic rune materializing beneath the wounded young man. A language she didn't recognize spilled from her lips, her voice merged with Compassion's as the unfamiliar tongue vibrated through her body.

_**"****Vanyalí abr sundavr, eitha. Verkr abr harmr, maela. Líf abr aí Varden, waíse sköliro fra haina!"**_ she shouted, the energy flowing through her and into the wound on Eragon's back. As the white-blue light touched the terrible wound, the blackened flesh hissed and smoked, the shadowy magic rushing from the injury to evaporate into the air. The wound itself began to slowly, but surely seal itself, the residual dark magic leaving a thick, ropey scar that stretched from Eragon's left hip to right shoulder.

However, as the Healing Magic cease to work on Eragon, the white-blue energy instead spread outwards, rushing in all directions fast as the wind washing over many of the Varden to seal their injuries and put them into a deep slumber, while ending the suffering of many others who would not survive the night even _WITH_ healing.

As the light faded from Hawke's eyes, the woman gasped as her eyes rolled back into her head. And finally, Freya was able to rest.

* * *

_**SWEET MOTHER OF ZEUS! Finally an update!**_

_**Firstly, please do not murder me for taking so fracking long to update this story. Blasted Aspergers kept shutting my brain down before i could get two sentences in.**_

_**Second: First person to figure out what i based the beam attack Hawke used to seal the tunnel gets a mention and a virtual cookie!**_

_**Translation:**_

_**Vanyalí abr sundavr, eitha. Verkr abr harmr, maela. Líf abr aí Varden, waíse sköliro fra haina! - **__**Magic of shadow, leave. Pain of sorrow, quiet. Life of a guardian, be shielded from harm!**_

_**See you awesome people next time!**_

_**PS: YES I AM AWARE I MADE HAWKE A BIT OP RIGHT THERE AT THE END! DON'T JUDGE ME HUMANS!**_


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